


Like, Forever?

by Daxii



Category: Free!
Genre: Boys Kissing, College AU, Cuddles, Exam Stress, M/M, Pillow Talk, pure fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-13
Updated: 2015-09-13
Packaged: 2018-04-20 13:53:26
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,794
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4789646
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Daxii/pseuds/Daxii
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Neither knows when these feelings started, but there's a sort of attachment that blossoms when you keep falling asleep in each others arms. And they finally act on it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Like, Forever?

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Einzel](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Einzel/gifts).



> For all your MakoHaru fluffy needs.

Haru’s reached a point of not even being surprised anymore when he and Makoto wake up in a lump on the floor of either of their teeny tiny living rooms. These exams might actually kill them. He’s pretty much lost count, but this must be at least the tenth time in two weeks they’ve passed out while trying to study. It’s probably not the most efficient way to get things done, considering how different their classes are, but they’ve _always_ studied together, so why should that change?

“Makoto,” Haru whispers from where he’s all wrapped up in Makoto’s arms.

He’s hugging him a bit too tight, like he’s clutching him in fear. Bad dreams about all these exams, Haru guesses, and smooths his hair with comforting strokes while Makoto slowly comes to and lets him go.

“Let’s go to bed,” Haru tells him, and has to look around the room, lit by just the lamp outside filtering in through the curtains, to see which apartment they’re in. Good, it’s Makoto’s, the one with the bigger bed so no one has to go rooting for a futon.

Not that Haru’s been bothering with that much these days anyway, even in his own smaller bed. When it gets to 2am, neither of them even care. Waking up all mushed together in bed is far more pleasant than creaking an uncomfortable over the table or on the floor.

He pulls Makoto to his feet by the wrist. He’s always so out of it when he’s tired. Somewhere between being drunk and being a zombie, staggering behind Haru as he’s towed into the bedroom. Makoto’s in his comfy lounge pants and a tee anyway, but Haru shimmies out of his jeans to get in bed.

Makoto is already flat out on his front, on top of the quilt. He’s barely awake, just a little slit open eye observing Haru leaning over him. Haru pats the side of his ribs.

“Lift up. Let me get the duvet.”

Makoto makes a noise but obeys, snuggling into his pillow when Haru covers him up and slides in next to him. The bed is big enough that they can sleep apart, not touch, but they both have this habit of gravitating towards the middle, and Haru just accepts it when Makoto’s knees bump into his and he wraps his arm over him. Haru rolls over so Makoto can scoot all the way in, pressed tight against his back, and feels a contented sigh tickling his hair.

“Just another week,” Haru murmurs, placing his hand over Makoto’s and threading his fingers into the spaces.

 

Makoto turns another page of his Physiology text book and grabs his highlighter to circle the paragraph, and then copies the chunk down onto his notebook in some hopes that reading it, writing it, and reading it again will boost his recall. Haru’s not turned his page in a while, and Makoto looks over in concern, maybe he’s struggling with a word – English has never been his strong suit, after all.

But Haru doesn’t even have his eyes open. He’s sat cross-legged with his head just slumping forwards, like a dainty snoozing Buddha. Makoto smiles. Well, it _is_ late, and picking at snacks all evening won’t have done much to ward of the food coma.

“Let’s get you to bed, Haru-chan,” he whispers and scoots over on his knees. He’s not quite as tired (a combination of his new coffee habit and conditioning his body to run on about three hours sleep), but it’s after midnight and he doesn’t really fancy the walk home alone.

Haru doesn’t even stir as Makoto scoops him up, and manages to balance his text book on Haru’s stomach to carry them both into the bedroom. He gets him laid down on the bed and slides into the narrow space next to him, levering him up just slightly so Haru can rest on his shoulder while Makoto stacks the pillows behind him for comfort while he’s still sat up to read.

He gets maybe another page read and highlighted before noticing Haru’s hand crawling along his body. It’s cute. Makoto’s always pretty clingy, always content to hold onto his best friend, and though Haru accepts him, isn’t really one to snuggle back.

But the hand keeps going, walking over his chest and then reaches out, pulling the string on the bedside lamp in a heartbeat and cutting Makoto’s reading short for the night. He still has his eyes shut, and rolls into Makoto just a little bit to pillow down on his bicep, arm flopped over him like he doesn’t even have the energy to retract it.

“Alright, bedtime,” he agrees without much reluctance.

Haru squeezes him in appreciation.

 

“We _did it,_ guys!” Makoto’s classmate, Hayashi, declares, stood up on a table in the student bar as the end-of-exam celebrations come to a close. “Now who’s ready for a good night’s sleep?!”

There’s a cheer around the room as everyone agrees, this mass mutual sympathy for each other for how much the exam period has just _slaughtered_ them all. Haru is already feeling his eyes sting a little as the cold air hits them when they’ve hit the street. Makoto’s place is closest. He doesn’t even have to ask if he can stay over.

“Bet you can’t wait to get your own bed back tomorrow, hmm?” Makoto teases as he lets them both in.

Haru shrugs. He took a nap by himself yesterday afternoon and it felt… weird. Sort of cold and like something was _missing_. He had this strange sense of worry, this not having Makoto _right there_ that kept him from falling into a proper restful sleep.

“Dunno, might miss you,” he says. Something flutters in his stomach. Something tense and nervous but relieved to have voiced it, and of course Makoto only smiles at him.

They take turns in the bathroom. There’s something different about not being mostly unconscious when they’re getting in bed together. He can feel all of Makoto’s warmth, feel every flex of his muscles when Makoto tightens his hold on his mandatory cuddle.

“Feels a bit silly that we’ve been paying for two apartments all month when we’ve only used one,” Makoto muses.

“Mm… the tenancy is up on mine next month anyway.”

“You’d just get annoyed with me.”

Haru huffs a laugh. “It’s been fifteen years and I’ve not gotten rid of you yet.”

“Geez… it’s really been so long? Some people don’t even stay _married_ that long.”

“Nagisa always says we’re married anyway,” Haru snorts and rolls over, slotting one of his legs between Makoto’s and hooking the other over him.

“We could get a place with two bedrooms, I guess. Or get a sofa-bed,” always the practical type, but Haru’s not really sure Makoto’s taking him seriously.

“I like… this, though,” likes feeling Makoto’s warmth, likes being held, likes Makoto stroking his back or stroking his hair. It makes his stomach flutter in a way he doesn’t really know how to explain, and just hopes Makoto can work it out for the both of them, he’s always so good at that.

 

Makoto remains quiet as Haru meets his eyes, just absorbing the feeling of Haru holding him in return and looking at him like… like _this_. Does he really feel...?

He tries for humour. “We’re probably about one step away from dishing out the goodnight kisses,” he jokes, brushing his thumb over Haru’s lips in a way that’s teasing but so much more, at least to him.

Haru just looks at him for a second and parts his lips. It’s… inviting. Makoto could shuffle closer that extra inch and touch their noses together, tilt his head towards his mouth. But then Haru speaks before Makoto can make a decision over whether it’s a hint or not.

“I don’t know how to do that anyway.”

“I’ve not done it before either,” Makoto thumbs his lip again, and leaves his hand in place to cup his cheek, tickling his hair with the tips of his fingers.

“But it’s a… couple thing.”

“Well… uh…” Makoto licks his top lip. “We’ve been pretty… _close_ lately. Closer than before…”

“It’s different… good different.”

“Haha, yeah… are you getting these… butterflies?”

“I feel sick when you touch me.”

Always the romantic. Makoto can only laugh. “Good sick?”

“Like before a race.”

Excitement. Anticipation. Nerves.

The exact same thing Makoto’s felt for _months_ now when he looks at Haru. He can’t put a date on when it started, when it started feeling so _nice_ whenever they touched, just bumped or brushed accidentally, and how he’s wanted more of that.

He strokes Haru’s back, brushing lower than he usually dares, waiting for a reaction that never comes. Haru just accepts it, like it’s the most natural thing in the world.

“Is it _supposed_ to be this awkward?!” Haru finally cracks, head flopping down to bump on Makoto’s shoulder.

“How hard can it be?”

 

Very, if you’re Haru, but _that’s_ apparently not going away any time soon, and Makoto politely ignores it when Haru scoots closer. He knows Makoto won’t make the first move, however mutual this desire may be. He’s just too shy, too nervous, always embarrasses too easily.

He kisses Makoto’s shoulder first, right where his lips are from bonking down own him, and slowly leaves tiny little pecks up his neck and to his jaw. Makoto’s body goes through a full loop of fear, indecision, and then this pure _need_ that Haru can feel in the shaky breaths that tickle his nose when he comes to kiss his chin, the last place before he reaches his lips, which Makoto obediently parts with just a look from Haru.

Makoto closes his eyes instantly as they kiss, but Haru keeps his open to watch him. Watch them squint tighter and his eyebrows raise as they fumble their lips together. It’s messy, wet, not nearly as nice as he’s seen in the movies.

“We need more practice,” he declares, and Makoto’s composure is completely gone.

He laughs so hard he almost cries, and Haru just has to lie here with him until they sputter to a halt. But every time he tries to lean in for another go, Makoto cracks up again to a point where Haru just gives up.

He rolls on top of him, pinning him down.

“Just let me kiss you!” he whines.

Makoto’s hands come up and hold his hips. His body still wracks with little giggles, but they feel nice to kiss.

“You’re mine now,” he tells him, matter-of-fact. It’s not that Haru gets _jealous_ or anything… maybe just a… lot. He grins at his own words. They taste almost as good as Makoto.

“I was always yours.”

**Author's Note:**

> This was nice to write. I'm such a slur for super cosy bed cuddles, platonic or otherwise. And dorky kisses, I mean... I love them :3
> 
> Thanks for reading! Would love to read any comments or kudos!


End file.
